“So why not ease back, cut arms, like I propose?”
“I think it’s too soon for that.”
“I don’t.”
“Then we disagree, Governor.”
“What is going on in South America?”
“I don’t know.”
“Does that mean that you do not know what we are doing, or that you do not know if we are doing anything, or that you do know and have been ordered not to discuss it?”
He sure talks like a lawyer. “As I told Ms. Elliot last night, I have no knowledge on that subject. That is the truth. I have already indicated areas in which I do have knowledge which I am not allowed to discuss.”
“I find that very strange, given your position.”
“I was in Europe for a NATO intelligence meeting when all this started, and I’m a European and Soviet specialist.”
“What do you think we ought to do about the killing of Director Jacobs?”
“In the abstract, we should react forcefully to the murder of any of our citizens, even more so in a case like this. But I’m Intelligence, not Operations.”
“Including cold-blooded murder?” Fowler pressed.
“If the government decides that killing people is the correct course of action in the pursuit of our national interests, then such killing falls outside the legal definition of murder, doesn’t it?”
“That’s an interesting position. Go on.”
“Because of the way our government works, such decisions have to be made… have to reflect the way the American people want things to be, or would want them to be, if they had the knowledge available to the people who make the decisions. That’s why we have congressional oversight of covert operations, both to ensure that the operations are appropriate, and to depoliticize them.”
“So you’re saying that that sort of decision depends upon reasonable men making a reasoned decision – to commit murder.”
“That’s overly simplified, but, yes.”
“I disagree. The American people support capital punishment; that’s wrong, too. We demean ourselves and we betray the ideals of our country when we do things like that. What do you think of that?”
“I think you are wrong, Governor, but I don’t make government policy. I provide information to those who do.”
Bob Fowler’s voice changed to something Jack had not yet heard this morning. “Just so we know where we stand. You’ve lived up to your billing, Dr. Ryan. You are indeed honest, but despite your youth I think that your views reflect times past. People like you do make government policy, by casting your analysis in directions of your own choosing – hold it!” Fowler held up his hand. “I’m not questioning your integrity. I do not doubt that you do the best job you can, but to tell me that people like you do not make government policy is arrant nonsense.”
Ryan flushed red at that, feeling it, trying to control it, but failing miserably. Fowler wasn’t questioning Jack’s integrity, just the second-brightest star in his personal constellation, his intelligence. He wanted to snarl back what he thought, but couldn’t.
“Now you’re going to tell me that if I knew what you knew, I’d think differently, right?” Fowler asked.
“No, sir. I don’t use that argument. It sounds and smells like bullshit. Either you believe me or you do not. All I can do is persuade, not convince. Maybe I am wrong sometimes,” Jack allowed as he cooled off. “All I can do is give you the best I have. May I pass along a lesson, too, sir?”
“Go on.”
“The world is not always what we wish it to be, but wishes don’t change it.”
Fowler was amused. “So I should listen to you even when you’re wrong? What if I know you’re wrong?”
A marvelous philosophical discussion might have followed, but Ryan knew when he was beaten. He’d just wasted ninety minutes. Perhaps one final try.
“Governor, there are tigers in the world. Once I saw my daughter lying near death in a hospital because somebody who hated me tried to kill her. I didn’t like it, and I tried to wish it away, but it didn’t work. Maybe I just learned a harder lesson. I hope you never have to.”
“Thank you. Good morning, Dr. Ryan.”
Ryan collected his papers and left. It was like something dimly remembered from the Bible. He’d been measured and found wanting by the man who might be his country’s next President. He was even more disturbed by his reaction to it: Fuck him. He’d fulfilled Fowler’s own observation. It was a very dumb thing to think.
“Kick it loose, big brother!” Tim Jackson said. Robby cracked open one eye to see Timmy clad in his multicolored uniform and boots. “It’s time for our morning run.”
“I remember changing your diapers.”
“You gotta catch me first. Come on, you got five minutes to get ready.”
Captain Jackson grinned up at his little brother. He was in pretty good shape, and a kendo master. “I’m gonna run your ass right into the ground.”
Pride goeth before the fall, Captain Jackson told himself fifteen minutes later. He would have settled for a fall. If he fell down, he might rest for a few seconds. When he started staggering, Tim backed the pace off.
“You win,” Robby gasped. “I ain’t gonna change your diapers again.”
“Hey, we’ve barely done two miles.”
“A carrier’s only a thousand feet long!”
“Yeah, and I bet the steel deck’s bad on the knees, too. Go on, head back and get breakfast ready, sir. I got two more miles to do.”
“Aye aye, sir.” Where are my kendo sticks? Robby thought, I can still whip his ass at that!
It took Robby five minutes to find his way back to the right BOQ building. He passed a number of officers heading to or from their runs, and for the first time in his life, Robby Jackson felt old. It was hardly fair. He was one of the youngest captains in the Navy, and still one hell of a fighter pilot. He also knew how to fix breakfast. It was all on the table when Timmy got back.
“Don’t feel too bad, Rob. This is what I do for a living. I can’t fly airplanes.”
“Shut up and drink your juice.”
“Where the hell did you say you were?”
“Aboard Ranger – that’s a carrier, boy. Observing ops off Panama. My boss gets into Monterey this afternoon and I’m s’posed to meet him there.”
“Down where the bombs are going off,” Tim observed as he buttered his toast.
“Another one last night?” Robby asked. Well, that made sense, didn’t it?
“Looks like we bagged us another druggie. Nice to see the CIA, or somebody, grew hisself a pair of balls for a change. Love to know how the guys are getting the bombs in.”
“What do you mean?” Robby asked. Something wasn’t right.
“Rob, I know what’s going down. It’s some of our people down there doin’ it.”
“Tim, you’ve lost me.”
Second Lieutenant Timothy Jackson, Infantry, leaned across the breakfast table in the conspiratorial way of junior officers. “Look, I know it’s a secret and all, but, hell, how smart do you have to be? One of my people is down there right now. Figure it out, man. One of my best people disappears, don’t show up where he’s supposed to be – where the Army thinks he is, for Christ’s sake. He’s a Spanish speaker. So are some others who checked out funny, Muñoz out of recon, León, two others I heard about. All Spanish speakers, okay? Then all of a sudden there’s some serious ass-kickin’ going on down in banana land. Hey, how smart you gotta be?”
“Have you told anyone about this?”
“Why tell anybody? I’m a little worried about Chavez – he’s one of my people, and I worry a little about him, but he’s one good fucking soldier. Far as I’m concerned, he can kill all the druggies he wants. I just want to know how they did the bombs. That might come in handy someday. I’m thinking about going special-ops.”
The Navy did the bombs, Timmy, Robby thought very loudly indeed.
“How much talk is there about this?”
“About the first bombing, everybody thought that was pretty good, but talk about our people bein’ involved? Uh-uh. Maybe some folks’re thinking the same way I am, but you don’t talk about shit like that. Security, right?”
“That’s right, Tim.”
“You know a senior Agency guy, right?”
“Sort of. Godfather for Jack Junior.”
“Tell him for us, kill all you want.”
“I’ll do that,” Robby said quietly. It had to be an Agency operation. A very “black” Agency operation, but it wasn’t nearly as black as they wanted it to be. If some nugget a year out of the academy could figure it out… The ordies on Ranger, personnel officers and NCOs all over the Army – lots of people must have put it together by now. Not all of those who heard the talk would be on the good side.